


The Crouched, Parched Heart Like a Tiger Ready to Kill

by Cinaed



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Background Marius/Cosette - Freeform, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:45:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Next to him, Javert remained quiet and still. The other man seemed turned to stone. Javert had not spoken, had not even moved since that strange exchange in which their gazes had caught upon each other and Valjean had half-bowed his head and waited for Javert to demand his arrest, and instead Javert had ordered his men to round up the usual suspects with a queer catch to his voice.</p><p>(Otherwise known as the Casablanca AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crouched, Parched Heart Like a Tiger Ready to Kill

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the three-sentence challenge on Tumblr. (Again, I am not very good at following directions.) The title comes from Carol Ann Duffy's "You."
> 
> Thanks go out to IRC for helping me figure out how this AU would work, and to the anon who prompted this.

The plane bearing Cosette and Marius was swallowed up by the fog. Only the faint rumble of its engines convinced Valjean that the plane had not vanished in mid-air. Soon, though, even the sound of the plane’s engines died away and the airfield was silent, leaving Valjean to his despairing thoughts.

Would he ever see Cosette again? Was this to be his last memory of her, how her tear-stained face had shone in the light as Marius had helped her into the plane?  

Next to him, Javert remained quiet and still. The other man seemed turned to stone. Javert had not spoken, had not even moved since that strange exchange in which their gazes had caught upon each other and Valjean had half-bowed his head and waited for Javert to demand his arrest, and instead Javert had ordered his men to round up the usual suspects with a queer catch to his voice.

Valjean turned so that he could see Javert’s face more clearly. He found Javert’s expression odd; there was a wry twist to the other man’s lips, as though he was contemplating a joke and finding it bitterly amusing. As Valjean watched, the smile twitched and shifted to a half-baring of teeth. Valjean did not mistake it for a smile.

Those dark eyes lowered in thought for a moment, then rose to meet Valjean’s gaze. They glittered oddly with an emotion Valjean couldn’t place.

“There is a free French garrison near Bruxelles,” Javert said.

It seemed a non sequitur, though perhaps for Javert it made perfect sense. Valjean let his puzzled frown speak for him.

Javert snorted softly. “What I mean is that it may take me most of the morning, but I can arrange passage there.” 

“You would get me a letter of transit?” Valjean winced as soon as the incredulous words left his mouth, for surely Javert would take offense at this doubt in his abilities.

Javert’s lips twisted again, though that strange, bitter amusement remained. “I think we have outstayed our welcome in Casablanca.”

Valjean thought of the way the German officer’s expression had changed to one of incredulity even as he had clutched at his chest and collapsed to the sand. Mute, the gun a terrible weight in his pocket, he nodded. Then the entirety of Javert’s remark sank in, and Valjean’s heart gave a startled leap. “ _We_?”

Javert’s gaze slid away from his. One hand rose, fiddled with the buttons of his uniform, a queer, nervous gesture quite unlike him. After a moment, his fingers stilled. “I do not think the garrison will turn down another man.”

“No, I—” Surprise had banished much of the gray, muddled grief from his mind, at least for the moment, but it still took Valjean another second to regain his bearings. He studied the way Javert’s chin had dipped almost to his chest, the gathering tension in his shoulders, and felt a strange, unfamiliar warmth touch his own chest.

“What I mean,” Valjean said carefully, “is that I would be glad for the company.” He did not know what to do with his hands, suddenly; they wanted to reach out and foolishly touch Javert’s shoulders as though that would prove his sincerity. He folded his arms instead, rocked a little on his heels, an action which made his shoes sink deeper into the sand. 

Javert still did not look at him. “Will I need a third letter for Toussaint? Or do you mean to leave the bar to her?”

“That will be her decision,” Valjean said, though he found himself a little amused by the idea of Toussaint running Jean’s. The desert wind ran cold fingers across the back of his neck, and he shivered. This time he gave into the temptation, reached out and clasped Javert’s arm at the elbow.

Javert almost shuddered under his touch, though he did not jerk out of Valjean’s reach. His arm was tense in Valjean’s grip. “Valjean,” he said, the name not quite a question. 

“Come, let us discuss this somewhere else,” Valjean said. He did not look down at the bloodstained sand, but Javert’s gaze flickered down to their feet briefly.

“Yes,” Javert said without inflection. His expression turned almost thoughtful. “And I believe we could both use a drink.”

That startled a laugh from Valjean’s throat, a hoarse, queer sound roughened by disuse. “You don’t drink.”

“No, but this seems as good a time as ever to start,” Javert remarked dryly. He took a step towards one of the vehicles, the fabric of his uniform shifting under Valjean’s fingers. “We can share a bottle. I believe that is one of the perks of being a bar owner— you can have anything you like, on the house.” 

Valjean followed, adjusting his stride so that he walked by Javert’s side. He found himself oddly reluctant to release Javert, as though Javert too would disappear into the fog if Valjean let go.

“Javert,” he said, teasing and sincerity tangled up in his voice as Javert’s gaze flickered towards him inquiringly, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” 


End file.
